


cuore mio

by pretty_bois



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Italy, Billy's just a dumb American, First Meetings, Fluff, Italian Steve Harrington, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 05:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19144564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretty_bois/pseuds/pretty_bois
Summary: Billy’s been in the country for all of five hours and he’s already completely and totally lost.He’d even paid for a map with currency he doesn’t quite understand yet to ensure that this would not happen, and yet, here he is. Stuck in the middle of some town with dozens of streets that look identical to him.But you know what? He’s not really bothered. He knows he’s somewhere in Piedmont. Or was it Lombardy?Doesn’t matter. Really. As long as he’s thousands of miles away from Neil Hargrove. He could be on the fucking moon and he’d be content. Plus, wherever he is, it’s damn gorgeous.





	cuore mio

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i do not speak Italian, so i am very very sorry if things are wrong

Billy’s been in the country for all of five hours and he’s already completely and totally lost.  
He’d even paid for a map with currency he doesn’t quite understand yet to ensure that this would not happen, and yet, here he is. Stuck in the middle of some town with dozens of seemingly identical streets.  
But you know what? He’s not really bothered. He knows he’s somewhere in Piedmont. Or was it Lombardy?  
Doesn’t matter. Really. As long as he’s thousands of miles away from Neil Hargrove. He could be on the fucking moon and he’d be content. Plus, wherever he is, it’s damn gorgeous.  
Even though he's more than happy with where he is, he  _does_ still have to find somewhere to spend the night. And he should probably start searching soon, while the sun’s still out, so he can at least attempt to read signs. To do that though, he’s gonna have to do more than pace up and down this one little street.  
Turning slowly, he takes in his surroundings and looks for anything to help him figure out what to do or where to go, but it’s midday on a Wednesday and the streets are nearly empty save for a few people on bikes and some older women relaxing at tables nearby.  
If he had any idea of how to approach them to ask for help, he would, but Billy seems to have terrible luck conversing with middle-aged women. They tend to. . . Like him.  
Which is good sometimes, but not when he really doesn’t know where to go.  
For all he knows, they could end up leading him to one of their houses and Billy is not going to let himself get kidnapped by some Italian ladies on his first day in the country.  
“Hey!”  
Billy barely registers the yell from up above him, wondering for only a passing second which of the women before him isn’t responding. Rude.  
Should he try venturing into a shop with his very, very limited knowledge of the language, or should he wander a bit more?  
God, this whole new country thing is hard.  
Maybe—  
“Golden boy!”  
Billy spins on his heels and steps backwards into the street to look up at the house, at the person who just spoke English. The sun is directly above the stranger’s window so he shields his eyes but he’s still too blinded to see anything but red brick, green shutters, and a silhouette.  
“Me?” He yells back, confused but also kinda really hopeful because he is _not_ prepared to butcher the Italian language in front of some old man running a shop.  
“Yes, you! Need help?”  
“Yeah! If you don’t mind?”  
“Not at all. I’ll be down in a second.”  
Fucking finally.  
Billy waits back on the sidewalk for the guy and hopes to god that he’ll be able to help him find somewhere to stay.  
Actually, now that he’s thinking about it, would sleeping on the streets in this quiet little town really be so bad? Not that that’s what he’d prefer to do, because he’s really hoping for a bed or a couch or something to lie down on at the end of this impossibly long, hectic day. But if worst comes to worst. . .  
He hears a door open near him and turns to face his savior, silently thanking the gods for sending someone his way.  
“ _Ciao_ ,” the stranger holds out his hand, but Billy isn’t moving to return the gesture.  
The boy is _pretty_.  
He’s overwhelmed.  
Soft eyes, dark fluffy hair, gorgeous moles everywhere.  
“Golden boy?”  
“Uh. . .” Billy’s really dumb sometimes and it takes him much too long to respond and act like a normal human being. He clears his throat and tries to actually say words this time.  
“Yeah. Hi. I’m Billy, Billy Hargrove. And you are. . . ?”  
“Steve Harrington,” they shake hands and Billy’s not sure at what point in his life his knees decided to weaken at a strong handshake, but here he is, and he doesn’t know how he’s still standing.  
Didn’t he used to be smooth? Wasn’t he smooth yesterday? It’s gotta be the country working against him. The Italian air messing with his ability to woo attractive boys.  
Billy accidentally holds onto Steve’s hand for too long, but he plays it off by rubbing his thumb along his knuckles. Because he totally meant to do it. Definitely.  
But instead of blushing or reacting literally any way that Billy would understand, the pretty boy laughs it off.  
It’s a really, really wonderful sound. Billy doesn’t even mind that it wasn’t what he was anticipating from this Steve Harrington guy.  
“So,” Steve starts, and Billy is very ready to hear more of the accent he heard from the window, “you need help?”  
Billy’s smart, but he can be so, so impulsive and stupid sometimes. He rubs the back of his neck to try and ease his own discomfort, “Uh, yeah. Basically, I just moved here and I kinda don’t have anywhere to stay, so I just need to find a place for the night?” Steve’s quiet for a moment, thinking, contemplating.  
“You. . . Moved here? Without a place to stay?”  
“Yeah? And?”  
“But you can’t even speak Italian.”  
Billy’s defensive, and he’s ready to respond with some choice words when he catches the teasing glint in Steve’s eyes and relaxes.  
“How do you know that I’m not a true Italian Casanova? Charming the ladies with my eloquent Italian speech,” He laughs at Billy’s exaggerated hand motions, and Billy loves how good it makes him feel. He gestures for Billy to follow him and they start making their way down the street.  
“It’s not hard to see that you’re an American. Maybe you’re an American Casanova though, hm?” Steve bumps Billy’s shoulder with his own and Billy can’t handle the way his nerves react.  
He literally met this boy five minutes ago.  
“How’d you know I needed help?” He asks, changing the subject quick.  
“You looked confused when you stopped. That, and your backpack sort of gave you away,” Billy glances back at the bag on his shoulders.  
“Oh ok, so you were watching me from your window then? ‘Who is that _gorgeous_ foreigner that keeps walking up and down my street?’”  
Steve smiles at him, “Exactly.”  
And now Billy Hargrove is blushing like a girl because Steve apparently does not know how to be subtle. He coughs and they don’t say anything for a few minutes before it dawns on Billy that a strange—albeit insanely good-looking—man is currently leading him farther into the heart of this town and he hasn’t been following along on his map (not that it would’ve helped him much, but still).  
“So where’re you taking me?”  
“To a good hotel.”  
“Were there none closer to you?” Steve gives Billy a look that makes him regret his entire life, “Not because it’s by _you_ but, it’s just. I just— oh, fuck off man.”  
“Aw, I’m hurt Billy,” he’s faking despair and holding his hand over his heart but all Billy can think about is how much he wants to hear his name from Steve’s lips every single second of every day for the rest of his life.  
  
God. When did he become so dramatic?  
  
Steve cuts into his thoughts with a question, “What’d your family think of you moving to another country?”  
“Only my sister knows,” Billy remembers when he told Max. She was mad at first, upset that he was leaving her behind, made him promise to send letters.  
“She was cool about it though. Said I better bring her fancy gifts if I come back for the holidays.”  
“If?”  
“Hm?”  
“You said ‘ _if_ I go back for the holidays’.”  
“Oh. Yeah. Guess I did. But how about you, you gonna tell me something personal now? ‘Harrington’ doesn’t sound very Italian, and your English is great. Are you keeping something from your new friend?” Billy pushes, hoping the nudging will distract Steve from his line of questioning.  
Steve smiles at the ground while he answers, “My mother is from around here, but my dad is American. He came here a long time ago and was introduced to her by a coworker,” he chuckles mirthlessly, “The rich businessman and his beautiful foreign wife. _Vero amore_ ,” he stops for a second and Billy waits quietly for him to finish.  
“I was brought up here, but he taught me English so I’d be able to follow in his footsteps,” Steve kicks at nothing and goes quiet.  
Silence follows.  
Billy feels compelled to fill it.  
“Hey, Harrington?”  
“Yes, Hargrove?”  
“Have you ever been to California?”  
“No, I’ve only been to the east of the country.”  
“You’ve gotta go sometime. California is the best, San Diego specifically. I lived there when I was a kid.”  
Steve gives him a look and asks, “You love it there?”  
“Yeah, I do.”  
“So why’d you move here, and not back there?”  
“Honestly?” Steve nods and Billy’s quick to respond, “I just wanted to get out of the country, so I bought a one-way ticket for the first flight out of America.”  
Steve laughs, “Fleeing the country? Are you running from the law, or your life?”  
“A little bit of both,” Billy winks. Steve shoves his shoulder through his laughter but grabs it a moment later to stop Billy.  
“This isn’t a hotel, but if this is your first time in Italy, you have to try authentic _ossobuco_.”  
Billy’s starving, but. . .  
“I don’t think I have the money for that, whatever it is. But thanks anyway, man.”  
“I’ll pay for you.”  
“Harrington, no, I don’t need you to pay for me.”  
“Be quiet and come inside. You can just think of it as a date. What do you say, Golden Boy?” Steve looks over his shoulder at Billy and smiles smugly.  
“Damn, pretty boy,” Billy grins, “how am I supposed to pass up an offer like that? Let’s fucking go, Steve Harrington.”  
Steve flings open the door because they’re both dramatic losers, “After you, Billy Hargrove.”  
  
—  
  
After too long, they emerge from the restaurant, and Billy feels high off this Italian boy’s charm. Billy’s not the type to fall head over heels, but if he isn’t hanging upside down right now. . .  
“Ok ok ok, I think I’ve got it this time— _Potrei guardarti. . . tutto il giorno_?”  
“ _Sì! Grazi_ , Golden Boy,” Steve looks much too satisfied with himself and Billy regrets not asking what he was teaching him to say.  
“Wait, I know that word, ‘thank you’? What’d I just say?” Steve shrugs, “C’mon Steve, just tell me,” he shakes his head and Billy knows what he’s gotta do.  
“Steeevie. . .” now _that_ catches his attention, “tell me?”  
“ _Oh Dio_. Now that you’ve asked so kindly. . .” Billy gestures for him to continue, “You said ‘I could look at you all day.’”  
And Billy’s blushing again, “Oh.”  
Fucking stupid dumb heart. He needs a cold shower.  
“So I was thinking. . .” Steve speaks slowly.  
“Mm hm?”  
“I know we’ve only known each other for,” he glances at his watch, “three hours now. . .”  
Billy’s invigorated by Steve’s obvious nerves. It’s probably not healthy. Maybe a bit sadistic.  
“Yeah? Just spit it out.”  
“I know you haven’t got much money, so would you like to spend a few nights at my place?”  
Billy stops dead in his tracks.  
“Whoa, Harrington, are you asking me—a foreign stranger—to come home with you?”  
“People tell me I’m an idiot, but you said you needed help, and I’d like to help you.”  
“But Americans are scary,” Billy stands too close to Steve in the street and cocks his head, “aren’t you afraid that I might murder you in your sleep?”  
“Eh,” he doesn’t move back, and tilts his head towards Billy’s, “there are worse ways to die.”  
Billy’s mischievous grin grows.  
He’s back in his element, with Steve obviously more nervous than he’s trying to let on.  
“Then it’s settled. I’d be forever grateful if you let me spend a few nights on your couch. . . Or in your bed.”  
And finally, _finally_ , Steve is blushing. The redness burning high on his cheeks is spreading to cover his entire face and neck.  
Billy smiles innocently and leaves Steve behind on the street. He yells over his shoulder, “So, your place?”  
He hears Steve mumbling in Italian before there’s a response.  
“It’s back this way.”  
And Billy isn’t embarrassed by his mistake in the slightest when he spins around and walks back towards and past Steve so he can sway his hips and make sure Steve notices.  
“It’s crazy, you know. Just a few hours ago I was prepared to sleep on the streets. And now? Wow. I hit the jackpot with you, didn’t I?” And Steve is jogging up beside him laughing.  
  
———  
  
They continue talking the entire way back.  
Billy learns that Steve’s an only child, but knows a kid named Dustin who’s like a little brother to him. Billy tells Steve about Max and he kinda mentions his mom too. Steve talks about his old girlfriend Nancy, and Billy tells him that she’s stupid for leaving him.  
Billy’s not sure why it’s so easy for him to talk to Steve, but it just is. A conversation about music (Billy cannot believe some of Steve’s favorite artists, he has to remember to give him a hard time about it later) is cut short by their arrival.  
Steve pulls open the door and they take the stairs up to a cute little apartment. Steve notices Billy looking around. Billy notice’s that Steve’s shifting on his feet nervously.  
“It’s not much, but it’s mine.”  
“Daddy didn’t help you pay for it?”  
“No, I got a job right out of school so that I could move out and live on my own,” he sits on the edge of a bed pushed up against the wall. He doesn’t seem bothered by Billy’s comment either, just proud of his home. Billy can understand that. A twinge of sadness hits him for the car that he had to leave behind, but he pushes that out of his mind and saves it for another time.  
“Hey, Harrington?”  
“Yes, Hargrove?”  
“Wanna teach me more Italian? I should probably know how to say more than ‘I could look at you all day’ to survive around here.”  
Steve scoots farther back on the bed and leans against the wall, patting the space next to him, “Ok, let’s start with _vieni qui_.”  
Billy squints his eyes at him, pretends like his heart isn’t beating a little bit quicker, “I’ll hazard a guess. Does that mean ‘come here’?”  
“ _Molto bene_ Billy!” He smiles widely at him and pats the bed again.  
Everything in Steve’s apartment looks like a dream, especially Steve. He’s sat on soft looking white sheets with a single square of sunlight shining on him from where the sun is going down outside his window. The warm yellow glow gives the room a homey, comfortable feel.  
Billy hasn’t felt this at ease since California.  
“Billy?” Steve looks worried and Billy feels bad.  
“Sorry, pretty boy,” he crawls over and sits the same way as Steve, their legs touching. His skin is on fire where it meets Steve’s and maybe this is some weird Romeo and Juliet kinda thing, but Billy’s gone for the boy sitting next to him and he doesn’t give a single fuck about how strange that probably is.  
He’s in a new country where he can be himself, Neil’s not gonna come banging on Steve’s door to cuss him out and shove him against a wall for liking a boy now. So what if he fell for the first boy he saw?  
He’s pretty, he’s nice, he’s generous, and he’s easy to talk to. He’s definitely a dream.  
Billy glances over to find Steve’s eyes on him. When their eyes meet, Steve whispers under his breath, “ _Sei bellissimo. . . Ho un debole per te_.”  
With Steve’s face so close to his own, he can’t bring himself to speak any louder than Steve had. He whispers back, “What’s that mean?”  
“I have another phrase for you,” Steve says instead, and Billy just nods.  
“Repeat after me: _Dammi un bacio_.”  
“ _Dammi un bacio_?”  
And as soon as the words leave Billy’s lips, Steve’s find them instead.  
Billy’s not sure what to do at first, he doesn’t reciprocate for a second too long and Steve starts to pull away. But Billy’s not about to let the Italian air messing with his head ruin this for him, so he grabs Steve’s face in both hands and pulls him closer, kissing back. He tries to deepen the kiss, it’s a habit at this point, but Steve holds him back. Reigns him in. Keeps it sweet and runs his fingers through Billy’s hair.  
It’s over too soon and Billy’s leaning closer for more but Steve pushes him away gently, “No more. We have time. I’ve been waiting to do that since I saw you from the window,” Billy snorts at that.  
“Well, you didn’t have to wait very long.”  
“I guess I didn’t,” Steve chuckles and rests his forehead against Billy’s, and Billy is lost in how soft and sweet everything feels because he’s never felt anything like this before, and certainly not with someone he’s known for so little time.  
“What did I say?” He asks, voice barely louder than a whisper, “What did you have me repeat?”  
Steve leans forward, presses his lips to Billy’s cheek before he answers:  
“It meant, ‘kiss me’, Golden Boy.”

**Author's Note:**

> my translation for what steve said near the end because google translate is bad sometimes:  
> Sei bellissimo. . . ho un debole per te = You're beautiful. . . I'm weak for you  
>  
> 
> hope you enjoyed :)  
> find me on tumblr @pretty-bois if you want!
> 
> (p.s. if you caught the Umbrella Academy and Doctor Who references you're my favorite)


End file.
